Hey, girl, hey! Or hey, dude, hey! I am not trying to exclude anyone; I need all the royalties. I am a thirty-four-year-old single mother of two angels and a self-proclaimed weirdo. To be honest, I have been called weird by enough people in my life that I could either adopt the title with pride or develop a complex. I fully embrace the label of being weird and wear it as a badge of honor. My daughters, Keira and Alyah—at ten and eight years old—have delighted in this status and the resulting antics, as they can be quite entertaining. My hope is that we have a few years left before my crazy fun loses its shiny appeal.
I have never written a book. By the time you finish reading this, you may feel that I still haven’t. But I recently went a bit off the deep end and figured, “Why the heck not go ahead and overshare my personal life with the world while I’m battling to find my way back to the surface of my insanity?” Don’t worry, more on that later…if I don’t become too distracted.
After pondering long and hard—or for about ten minutes at midnight when I was unable to sleep—I landed on the idea of calling my manifesto (Un)Predictable Happiness. There have been many unique descriptions provided over the years for my thought processes and actions, but one of my favorites was recently shared with me by my ten-year-old. We were driving down the road, discussing upcoming plans, and once again my girls predicted my next step. I was floored. How was it that after years of practicing spontaneity and irrational behavior, they were now able to precisely predict my actions with growing frequency and accuracy? With more than a bit of dismay, I asked if I had lost my spark and become too boring in my approach to life. They assured me that was not the case but that they could forecast my next move because the only predictable thing about me was that I would always choose what most individuals viewed as the unpredictable path.
So, kiddos, here’s to you! I hope this attempt at writing a book makes you roll your eyes in disbelief at one more goofy action taken by your (un)predictable mother. I also low-key hope you never read this or at least not until you are over twenty-one. That means you, Keira; put it down and walk away quickly.
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